(im)perfect
by welcometonerdworld
Summary: in which simon gets sick the day before valentine's day and baz is worried. featuring a lot of fluff and some scones. cover art by mitsouparker on tumblr.


**for chapter-61 on tumblr as part of the snowbaz valentines exchange 2016 - hope you like it!**

* * *

It was supposed to be perfect.

Simon had the entirety of Valentine's Day planned out two weeks before it actually happened. He was so used to being the unprepared, disorganised one in his relationship that he wanted to prove himself, prove to Baz that he could have everything together on time, even without his magic.

He considers, when he wakes up on the 13th of February, that whoever said that the best laid plans often go astray should really go fuck themselves – frankly, Simon is certain that 'they' jinxed it, and he would very much like them to suffer as a result.

But the fact remains that it is the day before Valentine's Day, and Simon Snow has a splitting headache. His limbs are stiff (wings and tail included) and his nose is runny. He's got a bad case of bed head and every time he opens his mouth, he coughs.

Baz notices, of course. Simon had planned to send Baz out for a large expedition to the supermarket so Simon could finish his preparations, but Baz takes one look at his boyfriend's face on Saturday morning and shakes his head.

"You're not well," he mutters. He rests a cold hand against Simon's burning forehead and frowns, "Where's the thermometer?"

Simon wriggles away from Baz's touch, in spite of how relieving the other's icy palm is against his skin, "I'm fine, don't worry. Breakfast?"

He pushes his body off the bed, feeling the sheets scratch against his bare skin. Simon wishes he could stay in the warmth of his room, but knows that would only make Baz more suspicious.

"Simon –"

"I'm fine, Baz." He sniffles and grabs a tissue before heading into the kitchen.

Penelope is stood at the stove, flipping an omelette. She glances over at Simon and raises an eyebrow. "You look awful," she remarks, "Why aren't you back in bed?"

"Why aren't you packing?" Simon retorts. Penny is visiting her boyfriend Micah for Valentine's Day, and has a plane to catch in the evening.

"I'm experimenting with packing spells," Penny explains, "One of them fucked up a little and now my socks are knotting themselves with my bras, so I'm letting the spell wear off before I go back into my room."

Simon grunts and puts some bread into the toaster. He turns as Baz shuffles into the kitchen.

"Snow, you should really go back to bed."

"I'm busy," Simon says, grabbing the butter from the fridge and spooning a little into his mouth. The fact that even this doesn't make him feel better is a clear sign that he really is sick, but he doesn't tell that to Baz.

The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes, "Whatever you say. Don't come crying to me when you start sneezing everywhere."

"I'm not sick!" He throws his arms in the air and then winces because his muscles are so sore.

"Simon, your nose is running," Penny passes him another tissue and he glares, but accepts it begrudgingly.

Simon rubs at his nose, scowling at Penny and Baz. Penny looks at him disapprovingly whilst Baz crosses his arms, an infuriating smirk on his face.

Simon wishes it wasn't so fucking attractive.

"I'm going to take a shower," he grumbles, pushing past Baz and heading for the bathroom. He can only hope that the hot water will clear up his system.

* * *

Simon starts shivering as soon as he steps out of the shower. He huddles in his towel, dressed in nothing but his boxers, and traipses back to his bedroom.

Baz sits on his bed, typing what Simon assumes is an essay on his laptop. He raises an eyebrow and smirks as Simon walks through the door. Then, his face falls.

"Why aren't you wearing any clothes?"

"You didn't seem to have a problem with that last night," Simon mumbles. Clearly, Baz hears: his normally light brown skin reddens, colour gathering on his cheeks. His blush has always fascinated Simon – he'd thought vampires were all pale and lifeless before he'd met Baz.

"Not the point," Baz says, "You're sick and you need to get warm. Lie down."

For once, Simon does as he's told, collapsing on top of the covers. His bones feel as creaky as the bed below him.

Baz uses his super-vampire strength and manages to pull the blanket out from under Simon's body to wrap him up in it. He towel-dries his hair softly, sitting next to Simon's head. Simon allows his eyes to flutter shut briefly as he breathes and shivers.

Maybe he is a little sick.

"You never got sick at Watford, did you?"

Simon opens his eyes. Baz looks funny from this angle – upside down but not really. "The Chosen One never gets sick."

"Think it was your magic, then?"

He considers. They don't talk about Watford much. It's been two months since he lost his magic, two months since Ebb, since the Mage. Since Simon fell in love with Baz.

"No, I think it was being at Watford," Simon says. "I got the worst hay fever over the summer."

Baz nods, leaning down to kiss Simon's forehead. A strand of hair tickles his face, and Simon sneezes. Baz glares.

"Sorry," Simon says, but really he's just trying not to laugh at the disgruntled expression on his boyfriend's face.

Baz shuffles over to lie down next to Simon, tugging the blanket over the pair of them. It's a bit of a struggle, having Simon be the small spoon what with his wings and tail, but they manage. They always do.

"Vampires don't get sick," Baz murmurs, "I don't remember what it felt like."

"Kind of shitty," Simon informs him, "Like your head's clogged with cotton wool and your body's been through an intensive workout."

"Sounds like a riot," Baz snorts, "I remember my mum feeding me soup though."

"What kind of soup?"

"Chicken, I think."

Simon hums in approval and Baz laughs, "You and your stomach, Snow."

Simon just snuggles back into him. He reckons he can get his preparations for tomorrow done once Baz leaves, even if he is a little under the weather.

* * *

"Oh, fuck," Simon swears, "Bloody – Penny!"

A moment, and then a thump, "What, Simon?"

Simon sits up. He must have fallen asleep, because Baz is gone and Penny sounds like she's coming down the stairs with her suitcase. The lights are off in his room and Simon stumbles to his feet, opening the curtains with a swift pull.

A sigh of relief escapes him. It's still daytime – which means he has enough time to prepare, just.

"What are you doing up?" Baz opens the door, sidling in holding a bowl.

Simon raises his eyebrows, "I thought you were going shopping?"

"I was," Baz says, putting down the bowl and guiding Simon back to the bed, "My fridge is literally empty since I'm here all the time, but you're sick."

"I'm not –" Simon begins, and then falls silent as Baz puts a hand on Simon's forehead.

"You're definitely too warm."

"Check the temperature," he says, "I'm sure it's fine."

Baz has to go and find the spell book for health – he'd never felt the need to learn them seeing as he can't get sick – and brings it back within a minute, rifling through the pages.

"Here," he taps the page, points his wand at Simon, " **You're burning up!** "

Baz frowns immediately. "Your forehead says 38 degrees," and when Simon looks in the mirror, he can see the faint outlines of the numbers on his head.

"That's a weird spell," he mentions, "Anyway, thirty eight isn't even that bad."

"It's bad enough," Baz says, shoving Simon so he lies down. Simon thinks about making a lewd joke as Baz hovers over him threateningly in case he decides he wants to get up.

Instead, he relaxes into the pillows, "Fine. I'm sick, whatever. But you better go to the supermarket, or else you'll starve."

Narrowing his eyes, Baz asks, "Why are you so keen to get rid of me?"

"I'm not," Simon lies, "I'll just get some sleep, okay?"

"Drink your soup," Baz says, "I'm not going anywhere."

So, for the next twenty minutes, Simon drinks his soup (which, by the way, is one of the best things he's ever tasted – not that he'll admit it) and pretends to fall asleep until Baz is satisfied. He listens with his eyes closed as Baz sneaks out of the room and shuts the door.

Five minutes passes, and Simon bursts into the living room. Penny is putting her shoes on and stares at him.

"Um – hi?"

"Penny! You're, err, still here?"

"Evidently." Penny says, standing and putting a hand on her hip, "Baz said you were sleeping."

"I – listen, Penny," says Simon, finally breaking, "You can't tell him, but I really need to do this stuff for Valentine's tomorrow, I have this whole plan and it's going to be really good but I need to do shit, I can't just sleep because I'm sick!"

A brief moment passes in which Simon sneezes, and Penny looks thoroughly unimpressed, "Look, I'm not going to tell on you. This isn't primary school –"

" _Thank you_ –"

"But I need you to promise you'll try and get better! Your Valentine's will be crap if you spend the whole thing coughing on Baz, so you have to try, okay?"

Simon deflates, "I promise."

"Good. Now give me a hug, I'm going to miss my flight if I stick around for any longer."

Simon hugs her and waves her off. Then, he turns back to his room. He is determined to make this the best Valentine's day Baz would ever have, even if he was coughing everywhere.

* * *

He's making a card when Baz comes back. Simon's so engrossed in cutting out a very symmetrical heart that he doesn't even hear Baz come in until he's literally right behind him.

"What're you doing, Snow?" he asks quietly. Simon jumps in his seat, slipping his finger on the card so he gets a paper cut. Wincing, he covers the card with his arms before Baz can see it.

"It's for tomorrow, no looking," he says quickly, taking Baz by the shoulders and turning him around.

"Tomorrow?"

"Um – yeah. Valentine's?"

"Oh, right," Baz says, and Simon wonders if he'd forgotten completely, and if he's supposed to be upset about it. All he feels is a smug sense of satisfaction that for once, Simon Snow knows something that Basilton Pitch does not.

"You forgot, right?"

Baz hesitates, looking guiltily at the floor, "It may have…slipped my mind."

Simon shrugs, pulling Baz over to the bed. The two of them land with a thump as he says, "Doesn't matter. I remembered."

Baz kisses the mole on Simon's neck. Simon shivers.

"Oh yeah? What are we doing?"

Simon grins, throwing a leg across Baz's waist so he's straddling him. "No spoilers," he whispers, kissing him.

Baz pushes him away carefully, "Snow. You're still sick."

Simon groans, putting his entire body weight on Baz and huffing. "'M not."

"Are too."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Snow?"

"What?"

"I –" he looks a little embarrassed when Simon looks up at his face. Baz twirls a strand of Simon's hair around his finger.

"Can I try a spell on you? I want to see if it will make you better."

"I'm honestly fine."

"You're really not."

"Basil…" Simon complains.

"Simon," Baz imitates his voice. Simon tries to shove him but ends up hugging him instead.

"Fine."

Baz tries twenty odd spells on Simon, including **Fit as a fiddle** and **Right as rain**. Finally, he throws his wand on the bed and pouts.

"Nothing's working," Baz groans, "Why isn't anything working? My spells always –"

"It's fine," Simon tries to convince him, although he secretly feels a little worse: he's used up nearly a whole tissue box in the last two hours.

"No, it's not," Baz says. Simon hasn't seen him look so worried since December. "I need you to be okay."

Simon softens under the gaze of Baz – his wide eyes, clenched jaw and the lines between his brows are all clear indicators that Baz is worried about Simon.

"Hey, it's going to be fine," Simon says, holding back a sneeze, "I'll be okay in a bit."

Baz's eyes darken. "You better be, Snow. I didn't just spend the whole day looking for spells for nothing."

"You – what? What about your shopping?"

Baz scoffs, "I can survive for a few days without food. You, on the other hand, need to get better."

Simon has a fleeting mental image of Baz leaning over ten different spell books, trying to memorise as many as he can for Simon. Something warm flutters in his chest. "Thanks, Baz." He gives him a soft smile.

Baz buries his face in Simon's neck, holding him close. "Please get better."

"I will."

* * *

It's somewhat a miracle when Simon wakes up at eleven o' clock at night. His body feels less achy and although he still sniffles every so often, his cough is gone. He practically jumps out of bed, wings stretching, and goes to find Baz.

"Hey." Simon calls. Baz has his back to him, and he's wearing Penny's apron (it has a flower print on it, which Simon thinks is pretty hilarious considering he doesn't think that Baz ever wears anything that's not monochrome).

He spins around, brandishing a spatula. Simon walks over and wraps his arms around Baz's waist.

"What are you – oh my god."

"They look pretty good, right?"

Baz is making sour cherry scones – but not just any sour cherry scones. They're _heart-shaped_.

Simon practically attacks Baz, kissing his cheeks, jawline, the tip of his nose. He almost feels like he's going to have a heart attack because, Crowley, Baz Pitch is perfect and he's his. He's Simon's.

Simon winds his hands around Baz's neck and pushes his hips into Baz's and just –

"Snow, are you getting a boner because I made you scones?"

"Um. No."

" _Liar_ ," says Baz, pulling at the edge of Simon's t-shirt so he can tug it over his head, "I'm assuming you feel better."

"Loads," says Simon, "I think your spells just needed time to work on me."

"Or your immune system finally kicked in."

"Don't care," Simon takes Baz's lower lip between his teeth, "I think it was your spells."

"It was probably the scones, let's be honest," Baz says, and Simon laughs.

"Crowley, I love you."

And Baz freezes. So does Simon – he's never said it before. He's never said it out loud.

He'd meant to say it tomorrow.

"Oh, fuck," Simon says, "I meant to – I wanted to –"

"It's fine, Snow, you don't have to –" Baz steps backwards. His voice is shaky and Simon wants to punch himself in the face.

"No, I just – Baz. I love you."

Baz raises an eyebrow. "You said that already."

"No, I mean I'm actually in love with you. For real."

With a sudden lurch forward, Baz seizes him in a tight embrace. "You have no idea how long I've waited for you to say that," he says, voice low. Simon wonders if he's still the only one with a boner. "I've loved you for so long, Snow – if I'd known that all it took for you to love me back was a few scones –"

Simon cuts him off with a kiss, but it's difficult to snog his boyfriend when their mouths are curved into smiles. "That was only a contributing factor," he admits, "Although I have to say that the heart shapes really do it for me."

" _You_ really do it for me," Baz says, and Simon blushes because when did his boyfriend get so damn cheesy? "Bedroom?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

So yeah, it's not perfect: Simon's runny nose nearly spoils the mood on twenty different occasions. Baz finds it half hilarious and half worrying that Simon is totally okay with snogging him when his mouth is like a haven for bacteria. ("So what?" Simon asks, "It's not like you can get sick.")

Simon, for his part, reckons that the first few hours of his first Valentine's with Baz goes remarkably well, all things considered. His plans for tomorrow - dinner on the roof of his flat, the card that he'd cut his finger on, a teddy bear and a whole lot of kisses - are entirely possible.

And for now, he's perfectly happy with Baz in his arms, watching as the hands on his watch tick on into the early hours of the day.

Maybe being sick isn't so bad after all.

* * *

 **a/n: hope you liked it! please review :)**


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